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I
was
always
so
innately
urged
to
live
that
sometimes
I
think
that
is
why
I
am
still
here
,
eating
and
sleeping
,
thinking
and
dreaming
,
writing
this
narrative
of
my
various
me
's
,
and
awaiting
the
incontestable
rope
that
will
put
an
ephemeral
period
in
my
long-linked
existence
.
And
then
came
death
in
life
.
I
learned
the
trick
,
Ed
Morrell
taught
it
me
,
as
you
shall
see
.
It
began
through
Warden
Atherton
and
Captain
Jamie
.
They
must
have
experienced
a
recrudescence
of
panic
at
thought
of
the
dynamite
they
believed
hidden
.
They
came
to
me
in
my
dark
cell
,
and
they
told
me
plainly
that
they
would
jacket
me
to
death
if
I
did
not
confess
where
the
dynamite
was
hidden
.
And
they
assured
me
that
they
would
do
it
officially
without
any
hurt
to
their
own
official
skins
.
My
death
would
appear
on
the
prison
register
as
due
to
natural
causes
.
Oh
,
dear
,
cotton-wool
citizen
,
please
believe
me
when
I
tell
you
that
men
are
killed
in
prisons
to-day
as
they
have
always
been
killed
since
the
first
prisons
were
built
by
men
.
I
well
knew
the
terror
,
the
agony
,
and
the
danger
of
the
jacket
.
Oh
,
the
men
spirit-broken
by
the
jacket
!
I
have
seen
them
.
And
I
have
seen
men
crippled
for
life
by
the
jacket
.
I
have
seen
men
,
strong
men
,
men
so
strong
that
their
physical
stamina
resisted
all
attacks
of
prison
tuberculosis
,
after
a
prolonged
bout
with
the
jacket
,
their
resistance
broken
down
,
fade
away
,
and
die
of
tuberculosis
within
six
months
.
There
was
Slant-Eyed
Wilson
,
with
an
unguessed
weak
heart
of
fear
,
who
died
in
the
jacket
within
the
first
hour
while
the
unconvinced
inefficient
of
a
prison
doctor
looked
on
and
smiled
.
And
I
have
seen
a
man
confess
,
after
half
an
hour
in
the
jacket
,
truths
and
fictions
that
cost
him
years
of
credits
.
I
had
had
my
own
experiences
.
At
the
present
moment
half
a
thousand
scars
mark
my
body
.
They
go
to
the
scaffold
with
me
.
Did
I
live
a
hundred
years
to
come
those
same
scars
in
the
end
would
go
to
the
grave
with
me
.
Perhaps
,
dear
citizen
who
permits
and
pays
his
hang-dogs
to
lace
the
jacket
for
you
--
perhaps
you
are
unacquainted
with
the
jacket
.
Let
me
describe
,
it
,
so
that
you
will
understand
the
method
by
which
I
achieved
death
in
life
,
became
a
temporary
master
of
time
and
space
,
and
vaulted
the
prison
walls
to
rove
among
the
stars
.
Have
you
ever
seen
canvas
tarpaulins
or
rubber
blankets
with
brass
eyelets
set
in
along
the
edges
?
Then
imagine
a
piece
of
stout
canvas
,
some
four
and
one-half
feet
in
length
,
with
large
and
heavy
brass
eyelets
running
down
both
edges
.
The
width
of
this
canvas
is
never
the
full
girth
of
the
human
body
it
is
to
surround
.
The
width
is
also
irregular
--
broadest
at
the
shoulders
,
next
broadest
at
the
hips
,
and
narrowest
at
the
waist
.
The
jacket
is
spread
on
the
floor
.
The
man
who
is
to
be
punished
,
or
who
is
to
be
tortured
for
confession
,
is
told
to
lie
face-downward
on
the
flat
canvas
.
If
he
refuses
,
he
is
man-handled
.
After
that
he
lays
himself
down
with
a
will
,
which
is
the
will
of
the
hang-dogs
,
which
is
your
will
,
dear
citizen
,
who
feeds
and
fees
the
hang-dogs
for
doing
this
thing
for
you
.
